jamie-claire

Flood my Mornings: Round and Round

anon said:

I would love to see Jamie at a like carnival or fair and Claire introducing him to all those weird foods in FMM! What would he think of cotton candy or a funnel cake?

Notes from Mod Bonnie

  • This story takes place in an AU in which Jamie travels through the stones two years after Culloden and finds Claire and his child in 1950 Boston.
  • Previous installment:  Unimaginable (Jamie and Claire pick a name for the wee bun in the oven)

May, 1951 

“Jesus—fucking—holy—blasted—G’ughh—”

I thought the last word was likely, ‘God,’ but it was anybody’s guess, really, drowned out as it was by yet another bout of vomiting and the sudden blast of music from a nearby loudspeaker. 

“Oh, love…That bad, is it?” My tender, spousal concern was acknowledged only with a string of Gaelic curses, surprisingly creative ones for a man so laid low.

It was a gorgeous hot day (bright enough that I was grateful for my broad hat), but it did make the scent of vomit that much more inescapable. The county fair had come to town, and with both of us having the rare treat of being off on a Saturday, we’d decided to make a family outing of it.  Though it was hardly a grand exposition, both Jamie and I felt giddy as Bree strolling around amidst all the merriment, taking in the exhibits, music, livestock, food, and rides…including a deceptively innocent-looking Merry-go-Round. 

“It was so good of you to try it for Bree’s sake, love.” I rubbed Jamie’s back, trying my level best not to laugh at the way his hunched back seemed to have lost all its vertebrae. “Is there anything I can get you to make you feel a bit better?”

He raised his head a fraction from the garbage can, high enough only to glare at me. “How about a trip through the stones to ten minutes ago so I might choose to SPIT on the fool contraption instead of ride it?”

“Not sure that’s quite how it works, my love,” I whispered, laughing and kissing his shoulder. 

“Daddy? Da!? DA!?!” Bree chirped from below. “Can we go—go an’ do the round’n’round again??”

Jamie looked down at our two-(no, two-and-a-half-and-then-some!)-year-old. “Do ye want to send your poor Da to his death?”

“Doesna—doesna’nt go to DEFF, Daddy,” Bree laughed as if he were being hilariously obtuse, “Goes ‘round and ‘ROUND.”

So I noticed,” he groaned, hunching once more over the garbage can and spitting.

“Okay, lessgo DO it!!!” and she was tearing off back toward the Merry-Go-Round. 

“Ohhhh, no-you-don’t, little monster,” I said, swooping her up into my arms before she scuttled off. My sunglasses slipped to the tip of my nose, but I couldn’t immediately get them back up. Between the heat, the sudden movement, Bree now like a boulder on my hip, a heavy handbag banging against the other, and my back abso-bloody-lutely killing me from toting around a seven-months-grown-human in utero, I suddenly felt woozy and completely spent. “Here, lovey,” I panted, trying to keep from toppling over, “Can you help push Mum’s glasses up? Yes, just—There we go, thank you, sweetheart.” 

“Melcome!” she chirped and gave me a wet kiss on the mouth. 

I mmm’ed happily and kissed her cheeks as we swayed together next to Jamie. “Was the ride fun for you, at least, baby?”

"Uh-HUH, s’was BUNCH fun!”

“Hear that, darling? ‘Bunch’ fun.” 

From the plastic depths, I thought I heard him name a few other choice things it was ‘bunch’ of.

I did feel for Jamie. We should have known it would be no better than a boat for motion-sickness, and he’d spared ME from having to ride the thing, after all (though truth be told, I quite liked such exhilarations when not pregnant). But I was ALREADY shaking with silent mirth imagining the photos I’d snapped, all laid out in the cherished family album. The first few would show a sweet and lively scene: Jamie smiling cheerfully, standing with his hand on Bree’s back, she triumphantly mounted on her plastic chestnut steed waiting for the ride to start… and then would follow the play-by-play of the situation’s rapid deterioration, every revolution of the Merry-Go-Round showing a Jamie still more pale and hunched and desperate, until—Well, that LAST one was a blackmail goldmine for the ages.

“Daddy?” Bree asked suddenly, her face scrunched up as she peered at her father. “You mad’it Mama?”

That got Jamie’s attention and he straightened. “Mad at her?”

“All…” She waved her hand. “…mean.”

His eyes softened and they flicked up to me, verifying that I wasn’t in fact upset. “No, I’m no’ cross at either of ye, a leannan,” he promised her. “The ride on the Merry’round just made my wame all wobbly, such that I forgot my manners.” 

I bounced Bree on my hip. “I bet sometimes you feel a bit grumpy when your tummy hurts, too, right?”

“Oh, aye,” she conceded, a flash of pure Scottishness beaming through, as it did from time to time. She leaned over and gave Jamie’s elbow a clumsy pat. “Sorry for y’r tummy hurted.” 

“That’s verra kind of ye to say, mo chridhe.” 

“Havva snack, w’feel ALL bedder, okay?”

“…Suggests the young miss with NO motive of her own,” I said, nuzzling my nose against hers.

“Oh, definitely not,” Jamie agreed soberly, eyes twinkling. He stretched, replaced his hat, and exhaled, then gave a small ha! of surprise. “I will say, Bree-love, a wee bite does sound just the thing.” 

Good, let’s HAVV’it.” 

“If there had been ANY doubt about your parentage, Bree, that bottomless pit of a stomach would have been proof-positive.” I sighed. “Alright, you two, let’s see what we can rustle up. Here, Jamie, will you—?” I honestly felt like I was going to fall over.  

Jamie obligingly plucked her out of my arms. “Jesus, lass,” he said with an exaggerated groan, “but you’re getting big.”

“Nuh-uh, Da, I’m the little.”

“Aye, you’re still the little, for now,” he agreed, tenderly tucking her hair behind her ears, “Before long you willna be the littlest, though.

She nodded, sagely. “When Beeyin’s comin.’

“Aye, cub,” he agreed, grinning at me, “when Baby Ian comes.”

Brianna couldn’t be convinced for anything that just ‘Ian’ would do, and insisted each time on referring to her brother by what she considered his full title: Baby Ian. The only problem with this was that she couldn’t seem to manage all the syllables in a row; hence, “Beeyin”; hence as well, many private family jokes, such as equating him to a wee bean; or when the wee lad would start jouncing me about like a racehorse, Jamie cocking his head to the side and asking, ‘Beeyin your bonnet?’, and other such delightful silliness. 

“Alright, let’s see about some chow. You two stay here,” I indicated a nearby shaded picnic table, “and I’ll see what I can scrounge for us. What kind of snack do you want, Bree?”

She screwed up her face in ferocious concentration before saying definitely, “Som’fin GOOD.” 

“Well, thank you for being so specific. Very helpful, I don’t think. Any preferences?” I asked Jamie.

Som'fin good sounds perfect,” he said with an attempt at a wink. 

“Ooooooooo!” Bree squealed a few minutes later when I returned with the goodies.

“Cotton candy,” I explained, carefully passing Jamie the paper cone supporting the precarious pink cloud. 

“Cotton?” he asked dubiously. “And it’s edible?”

“Just spun sugar,” I said with a grin. “Now, Bree, take your fingers and—No-no, just pinch a little off with your—oh—Oh, well.”

Bree had stuck her entire face into the sticky mass and taken a monumental bite, pulling back with wisps of pink in her eyebrows, enraptured. 

Jamie looked skeptical to the extreme. “Does it taste nice, cub?”

“Uh-huh!” Bree clawed out a fistful of fluff and shoved it upward toward Jamie’s mouth. “TASTE!” 

Jamie gave me a preemptive grimace and took a tentative bite. “Holy Moses,” he said, blinking hard and shuddering as he swallowed. “It’s like pouring the whole sugar bowl direct into my mouth.” 

“It’s GOOD,” Bree insisted, chowing down with relish. 

“None so verra filling, I’d wager, but as long as ye like rotting your teeth out—” 

“Here,” I laughed, “I came prepared with other options as well.” I pulled the next item from the bag. “Care for some Elephant Ear? Just a silly name, I promise,” I said hastily, seeing his alarm. “No pachyderms harmed in the making of this treat.” 

“What is it, then?” he asked, peering around Bree’s head. “Pastry?” 

“Try it while there’s trying to be had,” I said, handing it to him. “I’m eating for two, and we fully intend to eat our way through the entire elephant.” 

He did enjoy the fried dough, going back for several huge bites, licking powdered sugar from his fingertips. “Lord, though I dinna ken if I can manage wi’ any more sweeties.” 

“Alright, let’s see how you manage this.” 

Jamie had probably never had American corn in any form before, I reflected, let alone on the original cob. I certainly hadn’t grown up eating it, and so it didn’t occur to me to buy it at the market. From the gusto with which Jamie inhaled the roasted ear, slathered with butter and spices, though, it was going to have to become a regular staple. 

“No foolish name for this one?” he asked as he was finishing the last few bites. 

“Not as far as I know,” I shrugged, trying to wipe Bree’s face, which was an unmitigated disaster-zone.

"Pity. Missed a good chance.” 

“Oh?” 

He waved the naked cob suggestively. “Corn on the co….” And the barest-whisper of “…ck.”

“You’re a ridiculous human being,” I murmured, leaning in to kiss him. 

“And you are absolutely lovely,” he murmured back against my lips, squeezing my knee. 

“C’n I havva cornna-cock, too?” 


anonymous asked:

I wanted your opinion on something that has been bothering me for a while... the Print Shop frenzy! Don't get me wrong, I am looking forward to this scene as much as anyone...But I believe that the scene at Madam Jeanne's is just as important in J&C reuniting. This scene flows so beautifully in the book, it shows them completely finding each other and becoming whole again....one. I really hope that they present this scene with the importance it deserves. I mean he burned for her for 20 years!

I agree with you - the print shop scene will be fantastic, however, I too am looking forward more to all of the scenes at the brothel.

There have always been so many parallels between that scene and Jamie and Claire’s wedding night.

It’s truly their second wedding night - two strangers coming together due to circumstances beyond their control.

A first time together that is fast and a bit awkward. Subsequent times together that are slower and much more meaningful.

On both wedding nights they each possess big secrets - the fact that Claire is from the future, and the fact that Jamie has married Laoghaire.

Both times, Claire asks Jamie to remove his clothes:

“Take off your shirt,” I said, sitting up and pulling at the hem of the garment.  

      “Why?” he asked, but sat up and obliged. I knelt in front of him, admiring his naked body.  

      “Because I want to look at you,” I said.

I kicked off my shoes, and curled my legs up, feeling the warmth of him through his shirt. My hands found the button at the throat, fumbling to open it.

“I want to see you.”

“Well, it’s no much to see, Sassenach,” he said, with an uncertain laugh. “But whatever it is, it’s yours — if ye want it.”

He pulled the shirt over his head and tossed it on the floor, then leaned back on the palms of his hands, displaying his body.

And by the time they wake up the next day, they realize just how deeply they are connected - how deeply they love each other.

Yes, anon - I too am looking forward to the brothel scenes. For the print shop is where they find each other again - but the brothel is where they marry each other again.

Awkward Conversations - Teenage AU

Anonymous asked:  I love a cute teenage Claire and Jamie ! Number 15 or 16 please (:

15 - Hope we don’t get caught kiss; 16 - Naughty kiss

Here you go, @outlandishchridhe! Shout out to @diversemediums for helping beta this. I don’t have time to link this to the other story at the moment, but I’ll update it soon. Enjoy!


I wait for just the right moment. Her group of friends is coming down the hall and I see her, standing a little taller than the rest. As they pass by my hiding spot, I reach out and grab her. I clamp a hand over her mouth before she gets to screamin’.

“Jamie!” she whispers harshly, hitting me in the chest. “What the hell was that?”

“Weel… I couldna kiss ye wi’ all those other girls about, now could I?”

“Oh, is that why we’re hiding in a closet?”

Keep reading

anonymous asked:

After watching Claire and Jamie tender, loving moments nothing comes close. While I like Poldark, similar scenes simply look like acting, not natural.

I love Poldark but no couple in any TV show could ever beat Jamie and Claire. It’s impossible. 

xsamcaitmix  asked:

This is not a question but I really need to tell you that I just finished Constellations and I loved every single chapter. You have no idea how much I cried with Sirius Supernova. I literally had to stop reading for a few minutes because I wasn't able to continue. And the fact that Jamie and Claire always find a way to be together...wow, I just loved it ❤❤❤

Thank you so much for taking the time to write me about it! I always say this but I really really mean it - Constellations and Sirius in particular are very close to my heart, for a number of reasons. Thanks to you I actually went back and read it again myself. It’s a very special place to go. Much love and “What’s left is yours” <3

It was a "warm" Scottish day...

…meaning that the mist wasn’t quite heavy enough to qualify as a drizzle, but not far off, either. Suddenly the inn door opened, and the sun came out, in the person of James. If I was a radiant bride, the groom was positively resplendent. My mouth fell open and stayed that way.

A Highlander in full regalia is an impressive sight—any Highlander, no matter how old, ill-favored, or crabbed in appearance. A tall, straight-bodied, and by no means ill-favored young Highlander at close range is breathtaking.

The thick red-gold hair had been brushed to a smooth gleam that swept the collar of a fine lawn shirt with tucked front, belled sleeves, and lace-trimmed wrist frills that matched the cascade of the starched jabot at the throat, decorated with a ruby stickpin.

His tartan was a brilliant crimson and black that blazed among the more sedate MacKenzies in their green and white. The flaming wool, fastened by a circular silver brooch, fell from his right shoulder in a graceful drape, caught by a silver-studded sword belt before continuing its sweep past neat calves clothed in woolen hose and stopping just short of the silver-buckled black leather boots. Sword, dirk, and badgerskin sporran completed the ensemble.

Well over six feet tall, broad in proportion, and striking of feature, he was a far cry from the grubby horse-handler I was accustomed to—and he knew it. Making a leg in courtly fashion, he swept me a bow of impeccable grace, murmuring “Your servant, Ma’am,” eyes glinting with mischief.

“Oh,” I said faintly.

I had seldom seen the taciturn Dougal at a loss for words before. Thick brows knotted over a suffused face, he seemed in his way as taken aback by this apparition as I was.

“Are ye mad, man?” he said at last. “What if someone’s to see ye!”

Jamie cocked a sardonic eyebrow at the older man. “Why, uncle,” he said. “Insults? And on my wedding day too. You wouldna have me shame my wife, now, would ye? Besides,” he added, with a malicious gleam, “I hardly think it would be legal, did I not marry in my own name. And you do want it legal, now, don’t you?”

With an apparent effort, Dougal recovered his self-possession. “If ye’re quite finished, Jamie, we’ll get on wi’ it,” he said.

But Jamie was not quite finished, it seemed. Ignoring Dougal’s fuming, he drew a short string of white beads from his sporran. He stepped forward and fastened the necklace around my neck. Looking down, I could see it was a string of small baroque pearls, those irregularly shaped productions of freshwater mussels, interspersed with tiny pierced-work gold roundels. Smaller pearls dangled from the gold beads.

“They’re only Scotch pearls,” he said, apologetically, “but they look bonny on you.” His fingers lingered a moment on my neck.

“Those were your mother’s pearls!” said Dougal, glowering at the necklace.

“Aye,” said Jamie calmly, “and now they’re my wife’s. Shall we go?”

gotham-ruaidh  asked:

Dear Bon - will we see Frank again in FMM? I truly love your characterization of him - his selflessness and generosity - so refreshing and different from other portrayals. Or is that chapter in Jamie and Claire's life truly over? Thanks for so beautifully bringing all these characters to life! 💕💕💕💕💕

aww,thanks for the lovely kind words, friend! 

By and large, that chapter is indeed over. With the exchange of letters, I think both Claire and Frank have gotten a measure of closure, so in that sense there isn’t much left between them unresolved. 

I do think there will be a chance encounter or two with Frank, over the years. I think it will be an important moment for Frank to be able to see/meet Brianna. Even if she has no idea who he is, and even if he has a family of his own at that point, seeing this child that he would have raised as his own—that seems a poignant moment that I do want to explore at some point. I have no idea how old Brianna will be —she may even be grown up! But I think at the very least, there will be that. 

Thanks again for thinking of it and dropping by! 

Originally posted by current-and-tension

LOOKING FOR A (OUTLANDER) STORY

I NEED HELP!! ok, in a group chat we started talking about pirates and outlander AND I remembered an amazing pirate au story I read here. Unfortunately, it was one of the firsts outlander stories I read so I don’t remember its name or who wrote it.
All I know is:
- Claire was a runaway pirate
- Claire and Jamie had a “thing” and they were in love
- Claire leaves and they don’t see each other for a while
- Claire is sentenced to death (hanging) (by Jack Randall? Not sure) and Jamie saves her
- it was a oneshot

that’s literally all I remember!
I know it’s not much but maybe someone read this too and can help me (us) ?

Never fear, my beautiful readers. There WILL be more of the Teenage AU. I think next will be Jamie and Claire meeting each other’s families. And maybe a moment where he actually makes their relationship official. Here’s my question for you.

Who will be more nervous?

Jamie, meeting Uncle Lamb?

Or

Claire, meeting Brian, Ellen, William, and Jenny?